


Kill it at the Root

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:50:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: shoot prompt - The Machine sends Team Machine Root's number, Root can think of a bunch of people that want her dead, but can't pinpoint which is the real threat and Shaw is super fucking protective and worried about Root.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kill it at the Root

Waking up, Root stretches the sleep from her weary limbs. Hand on the nape of her neck, she rolls it in slow circles, willing her eyes to stay open. Finally, she stands, her arms spreading wide as she lets out a small yawn. With bare feet, she pads across the room to the closet. Slipping dark denim jeans over her underwear, she is surprised to hear a knock on her door so early. Buttoning them, she leaves her white, baggy pajama shirt on and walks to the door. Checking the peep hole, a smile is brought to her face.

"Morning, Harry," she greets, slipping over the latch and opening the door. He does not smile- says no words- just steps inside and slams the door behind him. Her smile falters, then drops, and her eyes fall serious. "What’s wrong?"

"Finish getting ready." He commands, standing motionless just within the apartment.

"After you tell me what this is about," she counters, folding her arms stubbornly. He purses his lips.

"You are in danger, we have to-"

* * *

 

There is a whining noise and the sound of shattering glass. Root and Harold drop to the ground immediately, and Root notices a large bullet hole through the wall beside her front door. A mere inch from her head. Crawling past Harold, she yanks on the first pair of shoes at her disposal, and pulls open the door. From the hallway, there are confused shouts. Root crawls forward, Harold right behind, until they make it through the door. Getting to their feet, the two hustle off; Root peering around at her distraught neighbors.

"My number came up?" She asks, partially annoyed and partially nervous. Harold gives her a quick nod.

"As soon as I came in this morning. I came here as soon as I knew."

"Did you warn anyone else? This could affect them, too."

"John and Lionel are out on a case, but I got a hold of Shaw. I’m surprised she isn’t here already."

The two slip down the stairs and emerge at the building’s lobby. Three men in all black burst in through the front door, machine guns held in place by thick muscle. They notice Root, and instantly take aim. Before she or Harold has time to react, the men jerk around spasmodically, and the sound of bullets raining fills their ears. The three go down in a groaning heap, revealing a much smaller woman. Instantly, Root smiles.

"Hey, Sweetie, perfect timing."

"I was waiting outside. Wanted to make sure nobody came in. Saw these three goons and had to follow." The two women share a look- Root’s filled with admiration, and Shaw’s with impatience.

"We don’t have much time. Go!" Harold insists, hearing approaching voices from behind. The three slip out the front door, Shaw’s gun is drawn and her eyes are scanning. With stealth, they slide into a nearby alley, consumed by the black zone.

_________\ If Your Number’s Up /_________

"Can you think of anyone who would want you dead?" Harold asks.

Root laughs at the question, leaning against the subway car with overwhelming humor. “Well,  _Harold_ , considering my past line of work and string of Identities…” A smile breaks on her ravishing face. “I’d say  _this_  should be a piece of  _cake_.” Her words drip with sarcasm, and Harold gives her a narrow-eyed look. Shaw’s is less annoyed; more determined.

"Is there anyone recent? Anyone that would have a sniper _and_ body builders with guns?” Shaw’s questions fire out quickly, and she takes a quick look around- as if someone could be with them there. When her gaze returns to Root, there is a smile on her face.

She ponders a minute, then shrugs her shoulders in slight defeat. “Times have changed, Sameen,” she replies with a sigh. “I don’t know how everyone’s evolved.”

"Well, the Machine has to know, right? She had to see them." Shaw’s voice hardens, but Root merely shakes her head. Harold checks his phone with concerned eyes.

"What is it, Harry?" Root asks, pushing off from the train car. He doesn’t answer, but instead turns to Shaw.

"It appears that someone is about to make a move on our other number- Mr. Hensaw. Could you go a-"

"That’s  _my_  number!” Root belts out, causing Shaw and Harold to stare. “She gave him to  _me_ \- he’s my responsibility.”

"Yeah, well now you’re  _my_  responsibility,” Shaw growls, “and by default, so is he. I’ll be back.” Turning smartly on her foot, she starts towards the exit, hearing the clicking of heels behind her.

"I’m coming, too."

Shaw whips herself around with angered eyes, and Root walks right into her. They stand there a minute, Root disheveled but determined, and Shaw worried but firm with aggression.

"I’m coming,  _too_ ,” Root repeats insistently, and Shaw shakes her head with annoyance. Grabbing Root by the hand, she drags her back to the subway car. Harold watches with stunned eyes, then looks back at his surveillance feed.

"Miss. Shaw, you must-"

"One second, Harold," she calls out, rummaging through a drawer. Root, a moment ago tense, is now relaxed, enjoying herself. She closes her fingers in around Shaw’s.

The second she does, Shaw is back to facing her, and Root steps back in surprise. She feels the subway pole against her back, and she winces at Shaw’s force, driving her hand straight up in the air. Before she knows what’s happening, Root hears the all too familiar sound of zip ties, and feels a thin strip of plastic dig into her wrist. Root’s eyes go wide, and without so much as another word, watches Shaw escape from the car. She tugs at her arm, but cannot move it out more than a hair, and the angle Shaw tied her is too awkward to bring her arm down. Sliding around- arm still above her- she watches Shaw’s ponytail sway haphazardly as she walks. Harold’s eyes are wide.

"Did you just-"

"Yes," Shaw cuts him off, not stopping her pace. "And she  _better_  be there when I get back.”

And like a phantom, she disappears from sight. As the events click into place, Root realizes her predicament. Looking up, she sees her hand limp in the air, black zip tie tight to her wrist- she can already feel the blood draining from her fingers. Looking back to Harold, she sees him staring at her with interest. She sneers at him, and he instantly turns back to the computer. From her stance, she can make out the wagging tip of Bear’s tail.

” _Bear_ …” She coos quietly, sliding with minor difficulty to a crouching position. A moment later, his head appears in the door frame. She smiles lovingly at him, eyes radiating warmth his way. “You wanna help me with something?” Her voice carries the same sweet tone, and he approaches.

” _Kommen sie!_ " Harold’s voice calls authoritatively from outside. Without a moment’s hesitation, Bear turns, running to Harold. From a few yards away, she can hear Harold praising Bear for his cooperation. She shoots Harold an annoyed glare, knowing he can’t see it through the metal of the subway car.

Eyes scanning, they come across her petite makeup back. Peeking up, she makes sure Harold isn’t watching, before lifting her leg towards it. With a soft but swift kick, she knocks it to the ground with a clanking thud. Harold looks at her. She smiles. Waiting until he turns around, she settles back to a crouch, free hand straining forward, fingers groping for the edge of the bag.

Finally, with one last lurch, her thumb and index finger snatch hold, and she draws it in. Unzipping it quickly, she rummages through- pulls out a powder blush. Clicking open the top, delight brightens her entire face. She can see the satisfaction on her features through the cracked inner-mirror. With nimble fingers, she pulls out a jagged piece. Brings it to the zip-tie; saws. The seconds stretch by like agonizing minutes, until she can feel the rough edge pushing at her skin, only the thinnest layer of plastic between her wrist and it. One hard pull, and the zip-tie splits, dropping to the ground. Rolling her wrist, she allows the blood to come back to it before re-zipping her makeup pouch. Coming to her hands and knees, Root breathes in and out silently, shuffling across the car floor without making a single sound. She comes to the door frame, looks. Harold types away on his computer, and Bear barely gives her a thought.

Sporting a bright smile, she continues her mute crawl, coming around to the edge of the subway car. Swivelling her body, she eases herself down to the tracks. And just like that, she’s gone.

__________\ We’ll Find You /__________

"What the hell do you mean, ‘ _she’s gone_ ,’ Harold?” Shaw’s voice is piping hot with anger at him, and sick with worry for her.

"I went in to check on her, and she wasn’t there." Harold’s voice is patient, but Shaw can hear the concern creeping into her voice. Less than a block from her target, she stops.

"I’m going out to look for her," she says, turning around with her head angled down, leaving the number behind.

"No!"

"If you’d have  _watched_  her, this wouldn’t have happened!” Shaw yells back at him heatedly. “You want justice? Get it  _yourself_ ; I’m finding her.”

"Odds are she is going there, Miss. Shaw." She purses her lips at the authority in his voice. "She said it was her number, so she’s probably on her way there now." Tossing her head back over her shoulder, Shaw’s eyes narrow, seeing la whisp of brown hair escape into an open door.

"I think I got her," Shaw rumbles, worry making room for agitation at Root’s ignorance to reason. "And when I’m positive I do," she continues, her voice a dangerous song, "I’m going to  _kill_  her.”

"Perhaps that’s why her number is up?" Shaw rolls her eyes at Harold’s small joke, then yanks the glass door open. Walking in on a small travel agency, she sees a woman in heels, thick, black dirt clinging to the hem of her dark jeans. She wipes her hand on her thigh, and black smudges onto them. Her hair is a deep brown that shimmers with bronze in the florescent light, and her mellifluous voice is unmistakable.

"I’m here to see Mr. Hensaw; I don’t have an appointment, but…" she gives the clerk a cool smirk. "Just tell him Diane is here to see him." The clerk nods his head, then hustles off to the back room. Shaw stalks up to Root, grabbing her upper arm and yanking Root to face her. Root’s expression is initially surprised, then changes to pleased, but morphing to nervous. " _Sweetie_ ,” she says between clenched teeth, eyes darting to the back room doorway. “What are you doing here?”

"Taking your  _ass_  back to the station.” She pulls Root’s arm, but is sprung back, Root unfazed.

  
"I’m not going anywhere," Root replies with a smile. Just as Shaw goes to speak, a man walks out from the back room. Shaw takes in his snappy suit, tan skin and white teeth; seemingly perfect black hair and kind, chiseled face.

"Diane! How are you?" He asks amiably, peering down to Shaw. "And who is this?"

Shaw looks to Root, then to her hand on Root’s arm, and quickly back to Mr. Hensaw.

” _This_ ,” Root replies, leaning her head towards him while placing her own hand atop Shaw’s, “is Sameen.” His face brightens, and a glorious smile comes to his face.

"Ahh," he says, a middle east accent coming through in his words. "So  _you_  are the one and only.” Shaw’s eyes cast over to Root’s- less than amused.

"Sweetie, meet Richard," she says kindly, gesturing her free hand to Mr. Hensaw. "He’s the travel agent I was telling you about. For our vacation?"

Shaw nods, plastering on a fake smile as she looks back to the number. “Oh yeah,” she says with sickening hospitality. “I’ve heard  _so_  much about you.”  _Lies_.

"And I, you," he replies with a dashing wink. Turning back to Root, his tone becomes more serious. "So, what can I do you for today?" Behind them, the door opens, sending a chime into the air. Richard’s eyes flicker over to the new comer, then quickly do a double take.

"D-Duke?" He asks with bewilderment; Shaw can smell his fear.

"You screwed me over," Duke’s voice is rough and cruel. "You took  _everything_  from me!” He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a handgun fit with a silencer.

"Duke,  _please_ , not with them here,” his voice is a plead; hands clasped together. Duke gives a sneer, bald head glistening.

"It’s a shame they are," he says, not truly meaning the words, "considering I’m only here for you. Oh  _well_.”

In the few seconds of his last words, Shaw whips out her own gun, shooting him twice. Duke flails back, green eyes wide in shock, until he drops to the ground. He clutches his stomach with unbearable pain. From behind Shaw, Mr. Hensaw looks at the scene with frightened eyes.

"You might wanna call the police," Shaw tells him casually, stowing away her gun once more. "But leave me out of it." With that, she heads out the front door, kicking Duke’s gun across the room in the process. Mr. Hensaw looks to Root with a shaky smile.

"I like her," he states, a tremble in his otherwise well-intentioned voice. Root smiles at him proudly.

"Told you she was the best," Root replies as she follows Shaw out the door.

On the street, police sirens are already wailing. Shaw and Root walk side by side, until Shaw pulls Root into a side alley. Instantly, the warmth of the sun is sucked from her bones as Root stands, pressed against icy bricks, in the cold shadows.

"What were you  _thinking_?” Shaw seethes, keeping Root pinned to the alley wall.

"That we’re probably going to have to postpone that vacation," she replies with sarcasm and an innocently considerate face.

"Cut the crap, Root," Shaw spits, eyes icy on Root’s. "I don’t know if you realize this, but there are people out there trying to  _kill_  you. You wanting to play hero isn’t going to stop that.”

"I wasn’t playing he-"

"I wasn’t  _finished_.”

Both women look at each other with angered eyes. “You really need to be careful. I tied you in the car for a reason. To keep you safe.”

"I can keep  _myself_  safe, Shaw.”

” _Really_?” Shaw asks haughtily. “That’s  _great_. I don’t care.” Root’s eyes narrow at her blunt words. “I don’t care if I have to  _handcuff_  you to me- if I have to  _drag_  you around absolutely  _everywhere_  like a  _child_ \- I’m going to keep. You. Safe.” Root’s eyes soften, hearing the sick worry within Shaw’s forceful words. In the shadows, she can see Shaw’s veins pulse wildly in her neck, trying with everything she has to remain calm. Root feels her heart take flight, and she swallows hard to keep it from flying out of her throat. She eases her hand out from her side, slowly bringing her arm up. Tentatively, she places her fingers on Shaw’s neck, feeling the warm throbbing of Shaw’s pulse under her fingertips. She expects Shaw to swat her away, and is surprised when she doesn’t.

"Do you have her, Miss. Shaw?" Harold’s voice crackles into her earpiece. Eyes locked on Root, her words are quiet.

"She’s here."

"Good. I want you two to come back and-"

"No," Shaw replies in the same, level tone. "I’m going to take her to my apartment. She’ll be safe there. I’ll watch her." Root can barely hear the words Shaw says over the overwhelming roar of blood pounding in her ears. Her finger tips are on fire with the heat of Shaw’s neck, but she doesn’t dare draw her hand back from such a magnificent flame. She feels Shaw’s pulse quicken, and her voice becomes harsh as she speaks to Harold. "Something  _you_  don’t seem very good at.”

"Miss. S-" Shaw smacks at her ear wig, and it powers down. Becoming aware of the situation, she steps back, and Root’s hand falls back limply to her side.

Swallowing, Shaw looks to the ground, then back up to Root. “C’mon, let’s go.” The sirens are on top of them now, and past their blinding lights, Root sees an army green van. Squinting- using her hand to shade her eyes- she makes out a past face in the driver’s seat.

"Wait, Sameen, I think I know who it is." Root walks in the opposite direction, out towards the daylight. Just as her nose touches the sun, she is ripped back into the alleyway’s dark, left arm held firmly.

"You can tell me the details on the way," Shaw retorts, pulling Root in the opposite direction. "Then, we’ll get John and Lionel on it."

"But- they’re right  _there_!” She tugs against Shaw, who only strengthens her hold.

"And the bullet was right  _there_ ,” Shaw counters, bringing her pointer finger up just beside Root’s eye. “No need to stop and see if they’ve bettered their aim.” With a sigh, Root releases the fight within her, and allows Shaw to drag her easily around the dark zones of New York.

"So…" Root asks, the need to break the silence finally overtaking her. "How long do I get to stay at your place?"

"Until this is over," Shaw replies, looking left to right before hustling across an intersection. A delighted smile pulls onto Root’s face.

"Then  _this_ ,” she tells Shaw with a million levels of possibility in her voice, “can go on as  _long_  as it likes.”


End file.
